Barely Alive or Nearly Dead
by petersgamora
Summary: When the light fades, and his heart begins to stutter, the sounds of hers lulls him to sleep he isn't sure he'll wake from.
1. Barely Alive

**A/N: First of all, Where My Demons Hide (my TVD fic) is on hold slightly because of GotG. Stuck in Reverse is also on hold. I will finish both soon, I promise! Okay I pretty much shouted for joy when I found that I am not the only person who ships Peter x Gamora! I've seen the movie twice now, and I shipped them from the start. They are my everything, tbh. So, I got pulled into that ship further when I started reading these lovely Peter x Gamora fics and aaahhh now I can't stop. I just got a lot of feels from Train's "Angel in Blue Jeans", which spawned this. Peter!whump and unabashed Peter x Gamora (what is their ship name anyway? Quimora? Pemora?)**

**May make this a two-shot? Please do review, lovelies! It makes my day. **

His fingers curl around the small multi-faceted stone, and when his skin touches it, fire licks through his veins. Pain, pure white-hot (or rather blazing purple) searing pain spreads through his body. Tendrils of purple energy dance over his skin. He can feel it tearing him apart from the core of his being, and it's all he can do to hold himself together as it tears through him. The sheer power of the stone brings a storm of grey and white into being until all he can see is the sharp violet rays of the stone in his grasp and the grey clouds whipping viciously around him.

"PETER!" Her voice rings out in the storm with unexpected clarity, and if he weren't so preoccupied at the moment, he'd wonder how that could ever be. Pain rips through him again, tearing a scream from his lips. It's agony, but he turns his head at the sound of his name. He can barely see her in the darkness, but he does. He can just make out her kneeling green form. The winds whip her dark tresses around her angular faces, and the light from the Stone catches in her dark gaze. Her pretty face is contorted in a mixture of anguish and desperation. "Peter, take my hand!" Her voice is louder now, closer? That's the moment he catches the tiny movement of her arm uplifting and extending. Her hand's held out to him; however (he still doesn't know if it was the pain or the Stone) close she appears to be, she feels light years away. She feels so very far away, and his heart itself twists because _goddamnit, he needs her and he can't take this pain much longer_. Even Peter Quill has his limits, and he feels as if he's drawing quite close to them. "Take my hand!" she calls again, only this time it isn't her he hears.

The scene changes before his eyes, and instead of her, it's his mother he sees lying on the hospital bed. "Peter, take my hand," his mother pleads. Her voice is too soft and begins to tremble. She calls his name again, and the last remains of her strength carry the syllables. "Peter." A tear rolls down his cheek-his last moment of peace before reality hits. Before Gamora's calling his name. Before he reaches out with what little strength he has left. Their fingers brush, then her hand grasps his. She locks her grip on his, ( he thinks in hindsight, forever sealing their fate).

Then the world fell away. When the light faded, and his own heart begans to stutter, the sound of hers lulled him to sleep

* * *

With Ronan the Accuser literally nothing but dust in the wind, the others slowly rise from the destruction around them. Rocket groans as he scoots out from under the ruin of the ship. Drax shakes rubble off and coughs. Gamora rolls into a sitting position, one hand reaching up to rub her head. her temples throb, and her heart is all but slamming against her sternum. She takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly as she surveyed the aftermath of the battle.

"Rocket, Drax, where is Peter?" she asks, worry settling into the pit of her stomach as she catches no sight of the Terran. She pulls herself to her feet, letting her gaze drift over the wreckage again and again in hopes of catching even a glimpse of the man.

"I-," the raccoon breaks off, takes a look around and looks back at Gamora with furrowed brows, "Drax, you seen Star-Dork?"

"I have not seen any of Peter Quill after the great explosion that has consumed the Accuser," Drax answers too slowly for Rocket's patience. "His name is Star _Lord_."

"Nah, the ridiculous nickname he's designed for himself is Star Lord. And shit, man, is it really that hard to lose track of him?" Rocket snaps. "Well he _is_ a lot more vulnerable than the rest of us. Stupid Terran might've gotten himself blow up." He mutters the last bit.

"Now is not the time, Rocket. He has just saved the galaxy, so I beg your forgiveness if I happen to wonder if he too has survived," Gamora answers icily. "I have not seen him and have become concerned."

Drax wanders away from them, kicking at loose pieces of rubble as he walks. It's when his foot hits something soft (and that thing happens to groan in response) that he stops suddenly, startled. "What is the cause of this sound?" he asks to himself. He crouches down and digs his hands under the limp form at his feet, scooping it up in his arms. The movement shakes loose the debris and dust which had previously prevented him from identifiying the figure. Drax's eyes widen when he recognizes the man (or what is left of him) in his arms.

"Gamora, I have found him. Peter Quill."

**A/N: Thoughts? Whatever's on your mind, tell me in a review! I may continue this (certainly have an idea for it)**


	2. Nearly Dead

**A/N: *hides my face because why on earth do I love whumping characters* Wow okay dear people, I love you. Y'all are awesome and I will totes continue this! **

**1.) MockingjayGwenStacy, meep yes I love you! Can we be friends please? Oh, I will def continue! Thank you! I was hoping I'd keep them in character. It's my first time, so that means a lot. :)**

** AwkwardBabyGiraffe, unfortunately, yeah. Poor Peter is in for it :( (I always put my characters through some sort of hell, but there'll be a lot of comfort to compensate for all the hurt) That "What's left of him" was more to describe the state they found him in, though. But yeah, Peter won't like me very much. ;_;**

** Zinfer, ahhh thank you! Yes, I plan on continuing. I'll update as long as I've got ideas (which I do). As for hurt/comfort. That's my niche, I think. Next chapter will be some comfort for our dear Guardians, that's the plan. But yeah, there'll be h/c for sure. ^^**

**2.) More Peter!whump and Gater in this chapter. Yes, I'm calling them Gater because hells yeah I like that shipname. Or Starmora. **

**3.) This one is super duper angsty. I promise, next chapter will be comfort. Warning: descriptive mentions of gore and very sad Peter.**

**P.s. Rocket is hard for me :s. I'm trying to get that badass, look-at-the-raccoon-he-don't-care vibe, but it comes across as him just being mean. Am I doing okay with him? As always, do be lovely and leave a review please?**

She whips around, her pink-tinged tresses flying with the turn of her head. In a few strides, she crosses the distance between herself and Drax, watching with wide eyes the man in Drax's arms. His face is covered in burns and scratches, and those bright green eyes always gleaming with mischief are closed. His brows are furrowed slightly., and a deep cut across his hairline is bleeding. The trickle of it runs down his left temple. His clothes are scorched and torn in various places.

"You may set him down gently, Drax," Gamora whispers, folding her legs beneath her as she settles into a cross-legged position. Drax dips his head in a nod and crouching down, lays him down so that his head is resting in her lap. Gamora reaches down and hooking her arms under his shoulders, pulls him up so as to hold him in her arms. His head lolls against her chest. She brushes the hair back from his forehead, careful to avoid the gash.

"You have been a fool, Peter Quill," she says to him, looking him over for any other visible injuries. "I do not approve of this and will make sure you atone for such actions when you are fully awake. You are not allowed to die. I forbid you." She absently strokes his curls as she speaks, not caring if he heard her or not.

* * *

The lights are fading now and if his eyes are open (honestly he can't tell; that's how dark it is), he sees nothing but darkness. Not beautiful, star-speckled darkness; but cold, depthless, lonely darkness. He definitely feels the cold and shudders on instinct, reminded uncomfortably of the feeling of ice crawling over his skin after he'd saved Gamora by risking his own life in the process.

_ Gamora_. Pain flares in his chest at the thought of her. He tries to chase it away, but it slithers under his skin like an itch he can't scratch. He swallows, forcing the discomfort down. (Is it possible to swallow in limbo? He marks that up as one of the stupidest questions he could possible ask in his situation.) That's the moment he begins to distinctly wonder where he is. Where it could be so impossibly dark and cold. _Aside from dying, which I adamantly refuse to do_, he thinks to himself. Something grips his heart then, sinking icy claws into his core at the thought of death, and he decides he doesn't like it. The sensation creeps into him, raises the hairs on the back of his neck. He gulps, and if his pride weren't so damned stubborn, he might have admitted that the thought of dying was terrifying. He pushes the thought away. Rocket'd call him a coward, he thinks. The raccoon would spit something along the lines of dying being something to write down in a history book. Peter tries to imagine it: Star Lord, saviour of the galaxy with his brilliant plan to distract the Accuser with a dance-off. He, the Terran who found himself afraid of death.

It's when the light fades that his heart begins to stutter.

(The beats are fewer now. He can barely hear his own heartbeat.) His heart is slowing down, and for once he doesn't blame it. It's tired just as much as he is, and he honestly doesn't think he can take much more. It's a selfish thought, so he thinks, but wherever he is-it seems as if the odds were increasingly against him.

In the time that follows, he feels nothing but the cold and the silence. That is until the moment (just one moment) he hears another heartbeat beside his own. It thrums softly in his ears-her heart thrums softly in his ears. Though he can barely hear his own, the sound of hers lulls him; the steady, quiet rhythm soothes him and lulls him to sleep he isn't sure he'll wake from.

* * *

"I do not think he is breathing," Drax comments, from his seat on what's left of an engine. "It does not look like it." Gamora leans her head down and turns her ear to Peter's chest, closing her eyes as she listened for a heartbeat. At first, she is met with silence, terrifying silence. Relief comes soon enough when she catches first one, then another. The beats of his heart are few and far between, faint almost nonexistent. She sits back up and meets Drax's gaze.

"He is not dead," she remarks softly. "Not yet." She still holds the injured Terran close. She reaches down to pull his coat closer over him (because if she feels the chill of their surroundings than he must as well) when her fingers brush wetness. Puzzled, she folds the leather back and pushes it out of her way, running her hand as gently as possible along his torn and tattered torso. Her fingers find the damp spot-there's a dark splotch just above his hip. With her other hand, she lifts the hem of his shirt just enough to examine the wound. Her heart drops to her boots at what she finds. Nestled in the curve of his pelvis, just beneath his stomach, is a piece of shrapnel at least a foot long. Her own stomach upturns at the sight, and she isn't sure if she wants to cry or scream or both.

"He might as well be," Rocket comments, then adds quickly, "Gamora, I don't mean it that way" to her angry expression. "I mean that if the explosion didn't, this will. Humie's lucky we happen to be on Xandar." Gamora turns back to the man in her arms and closes her eyes-the best she can do to hide the tears forming in her ears. She is Gamora. She does not cry. _Peter Quill, it seems has upturned every thing that makes me me_, she thinks to herself.

"We must find medical attention for him, then," she says hoarsely. "He is not allowed to die. Not now." _I forbade you, Quill,_ she thinks as she gazes at the shadow of the "legendary outlaw" calling himself Star Lord.

**A/N: Thoughts? Whatever's on your mind, tell me in a review?**

**P.s. Don't worry, I am not going to kill Peter. How can I? I'm in love with the guy okay. **


	3. Cold and Barely Breathing

**A/N: Before you all grab your pitchforks, I did write some sweetness here. Just gotta squint and look at it with Gameter goggles. Note: I do not plan to kill Peter, so whatever happens to him, he isn't dead. (I love him way too much). This chapter is more Gamora-centric, fyi. **

**1.) Zinfer, I hope you still think so after this chapter heh. I'm doing my best to capture their characters and interactions within cannon. Normally, I don't update this quickly. (For me, it's more like once a week or...once in a blue moon) But I just feel so inspired and I've been on a GotG bender as of late. **

** penguin357, you know it. I love him just way too much, so yeah, he won't die. **

** Boooyakasha, thank you so much! More is on the way. C:**

** Indywolf, meeep thank you so so much! There's more coming. :)**

**2.) This chapter was inspired whilst listening to "Lightning" by Cash Cash, so please do listen to that while reading. **

She stays with him through the night.

The others stay as well, but she's the one who stays awake and watching. Her eyes fix on the monitor several feet away. The glowing blue line stretching across the dark screen _blip_s occasionally, displaying alternating bumps and depressions which she guesses to be Peter's heartbeat. The blips come so few and far between that when perchance she happens to miss it, her own heart almost stops and she'll lean forward, eyes wide with worry until she notices the minute rise and fall of his chest as he breathes.

* * *

_ She waits with the rest of the Guardians once they'd brought him to the Xandarian hospital, and it was her who remained with him afterwards. The nurse, a slip of a thing with skin a shade of pink even brighter than Gamora's own hair, asks if Peter had any family. After a shared glance among the raccoon, the assassin, and the walking thesaurus, Gamora shakes her head. "We are all that he has," she answers, burying the confusing swell of emotions the words bring to her._

_ She is there when the three of them are told news they'd already expected-he would need surgery to remove the shrapnel with any hope of survival. When the doctors finish, none of the trio are able to see him. Gamora herself paces outside the door, her hands folding and unfolding, clenching into fists until the doctor emerges with clipboard in hand. He' leaves the door slightly ajar. (Gamora strains to catch any sight of Peter, but the doctor has stood conveniently in her view.) (It bothers her immensely)_

_ "How is he?" It's all she can do to hide the desperation she can already hear in her own voice._

_ "He'll survive," the doctor responds. "He's lost a large amount of blood, but his heart rate's still a bit weak. Boy's made of pretty strong stuff."_

_ "Pretty?" Drax, of course._

_ "It's a metaphor, Muscle Man," Rocket grunts._

_ "May I see him?" she asks, arching a brow._

_ "He's in a medically induced coma," says the doctor slowly, as if to dissuade her. It's a futile attempt because she is Gamora, and she is not easily dissuaded. She shoulders past the doctor and saunters into the room, barely hearing him as he calls after her, "He'll hear you if you've got anything to say to him."_

* * *

She's leaning forward, and her dark tresses fall over his shoulder. Her gaze flits over his pallid face, and in that moment, she wants nothing more than to see those bright green eyes open and winking at her, that ridiculously disarming smile on his lips and some foolish attempt to woo her. She half-expects it to happen and is not surprised when the man lying on the bed remains lying there, once nearly dead now barely alive. She reaches across and lays her hand on his, curling her fingers around the curve of his hand.

"Quill, if you can hear me or not, I am not sure of this. I will presume you can as it is likely I will not repeat this," she begins, smoothing her thumb across the back of his hand. The pad of her thumb brushes the scar on his hand-a scar she'd left when (ages ago, it seems) she'd thrown one of her knives at him. To be fair, she _had_ at that point had only acquiring the sphere in mind. She takes a deep breath and continues, "I do not live to regret many things. I have not done many things to regret. One thing, I have found myself wishing I had done. That is the definition of regret, is it not?" She swallows past a lump in her throat and blinks a few times before she continues, "I wish that I had-I am glad that you are not awake to see this or else I wonder you should laugh at me. Something at which I would not be pleased."

She clears her throat. "I wish that I had...danced with you on Knowhere." In her hold, the muscles in his hand twitch slightly. His thumb moves just enough that she dares to hope he has heard her.

She leans in closer, now, her lips inches from his ear and whispers so softly she can barely hear herself, "You once told me there is a legend about people like me. You must tell me of it when this is over." As she's whispering these words, all she thinks of is the time not so long ago when they'd stood together looking at the cosmos. He'd slipped his headphones onto her ears, and the light touch on her hip had been him resting his hand there. She'd stiffened when his fingers sought hers, and now she feels the tiniest twinge of guilt as she pictures his startled (and hurt, she realizes afterward) face when the blade of her knife had pressed against his exposed throat.

Initially, she isn't sure what the beeping sound is when it meets her ears, but as she sits back up, the noise becomes louder. She turns her gaze to the monitor only to find that the glowing blue line is flat and still. The machine maintains a steady _beeeep. _"No, this cannot happen. I forbade you. Quill, please do not do this." She's pleading, begging the powers that be for aid she cannot give. She slumps on the edge of the bed, burying her face in her arms as warm tears roll down her face. She doesn't bother fighting them. The man for whom they fall has turned everything that has made her her upside down, and from what she knows of Terran emotion-tears are that which soon follow.

Her cries soon wake the others.

"What in the-"

"I AM Groot?!"

"What has happened?"

The silence that settles in her soul renders her too numb to answer them. The last shred of hope in her being clings like a dying flame to a passing thought, more like a memory.

"_He isn't completely Terran. The results from blood testing have displayed two differing species in his D.N.A," the doctor adds, as an afterthought. "Could be how he survived the loss of blood." _Or bearing the Infinity Stone_, Gamora adds in her mind. "That'd kill any human."_

She doesn't count (or bother to) the passage of time. She doesn't care that the others are watching her. All she does care about is that the man before her eyes is in the darkness where she cannot reach him. She leans down and closes her eyes as she presses a lingering kiss to his cold lips. Tears run down her cheeks and fall onto his.

**A/N: *sobs in a corner because what the fuuu-did I just kill Peter Quill?* ****Hint: It's all in the genes, guys. P.s., sorry for the lack of Peter's perspective. I know I've been alternating with him, Gamora and then the other Guardians, but next chapter will be his p.o.v, promise. **

**Aaaand I blame Chris Pratt and Zoe Saldana for their fantastic performances in GotG for all this feels-inducing mess I call my fanfiction. **

**Thoughts? Whatever's on your mind, tell me in a review?**


	4. Lightning to the Heart

**A/N: (Okay fine, I gave in and posted another update) **

**Dun, dun, dun! What's going to happen to Peter?! I'm worse than Ronan, aren't I? ;_; Merh sorreh, I don't mean to be all evil with the cliffhangers. Okay maybe I do, but hey! It adds effect. As promised, this chapter will have a bit more of Peter's perspective AND Guardians!bonding. Bit of angst and a lot of fluff to follow. Also, Rocket is being his awesome self.**

**1.) Marvel-Tolkien Fangirl, we authors sort of have a habit of leaving cliffhangers, though. ;)**

** alexis1612, Thank you so much, dear! It means the world to me, honestly. Starmora, okay. I am hereby officially calling Peter and Gamora 'Starmora'. **

** Doyle0915, I seem to have caved because here is another chapter. I was planning on posting this Monday, but ahh. Gosh, you're telling me. Peter definitely does NOT like me anymore. 'specially after all I put him , I've given him Gamora so. **

** penguin357, *flails because yay a cookie thank you* Ahem, it was obvious, the signs in the movie. It's about time she come to terms with them, eh? **

** Guest, ah yes, I'm working on it! I've got to weave them into the story so it makes sense and all, but trust me. I desperately want everything to be just Starmora because god knows there wasn't enough in the movie!**

**2.) Here, here, *tosses you all another chapter* Now THIS one is definitely longer. Full of Starmora, and fluff because why the hell not. **

**3.) Thank you, dearest readers + reviewers + followers + favorite-ers, I hope this chapter lives up to the first three, and do remember-leave any and all thoughts in a review. C: More reviews = faster updates. **

She lifts her head away from the bed, wiping at the wetness in her eyes. Drax strides toward her, lifting a hand to lay it gently on her shoulder. Rocket settles down at her feet, clambering up to sit on her lap and folds his arms over his chest, his expression a mixture of attempted stoicism and a struggle to keep a lid on his own emotions. He makes something between a growl and sob, pinching the bridge of his furry nose with his paw before jumping off Gamora to the ground. He grounds out something about having lost too many already and abruptly pushes the medical staff out of the room until all that remain are himself, Drax and the weeping assassin. He nimbly leaps onto a table near the door and looks around himself at the miscellaneous devices, wires and cords at his feet.

Before the other two can wonder at what he's doing, the raccoon fumbles for a pair of rectangular blocks of xandarium wired to what appears to be a generator. He retrieves a screwdriver from his belt, unscrews a few knobs, switches their places and screws them back in. He then (carefully after making sure his fiddling wouldn't further complicate his friend's already complicated situation) unscrews one of the xandarium plates. Setting it aside, he fishes a small octagonal object from his pack and finds a place for it in between two nodes in the rectangular block. He begins to screw the plate back in when Gamora's voice over his shoulder startles him.

"Rocket, what is it you are doing? If it is to-"

He cuts her off with an upheld hand, quickly finishing the job at hand. "It is, and you know that if I could (I can, by the way) help this with my particular skillset, I would, no?" He doesn't wait for a response before thrusting the xandarium boxes into her hand. "Take these and give them to Drax. Tell him he's to hold them against Peter's sides, right along his ribcage." To her questioning glance, "These are like paddles. Erm...kickstart for his heart. I amped up the voltage because, well, if he can handle the Infinity Stone, he can take all the juice I've put into these babies." Her eyes widen with alarm, then narrow to dangerous slits.

"The Infinity Stone nearly killed him, Rocket," Gamora hisses. "I do not understand this logic you have strung together." Rocket growls his frustration and instead jerks his paw at Drax, as if to hurry her up.

"Just get it done, and I'll explain. COME ON, Gamora, we don't have much time!" the mammal shouts, pushing the wheeled table (generator, leads and all) closer to Peter. Gamora all but tosses the leads to Drax who (surprisingly deft for a man of his size) catches them and as per her instructions, holds either one to Peter's sides. "Ready?" Rocket calls out.

"I am prepared. Continue," Drax remarks gruffly.

"1...2...3...CLEAR!" the raccoon cries, flipping the switch on the generator as Drax presses the cold zandarium to Peter's now bared chest. The lights in the room flicker as electricity zips through the wires connecting lead to generator. Peter's body jerks, and the bed shakes as he hits hit with a solid thump. Moments tick by, slower than they all would like, but Rocket holds up a paw. "Wait," he tells them. "We have to wait."

* * *

_** Electricity** (ɪlɛkˈtrɪsɪtɪ, ˌiːlɛk-) —n: 1. any phenomenon associated with stationary or moving electrons, ions, or other charged particles._ It's the only descriptor that comes to mind in the few seconds of mental clarity he's given before light breaks through the darkness that's surrounded him. It shatters the blackness like glass, and he's blinking, his eyes squinting nearly shut to adjust to the blinding light.

He's pushed himself to a sitting position, pulling his knees up to his chest. The light washes over him, and ever afterwards, he distinctly remembers (he remembers this particular moment) the tingling sensation that runs through him when it hits his skin. It sinks into his core, and his brain—simple thing that it is—has just enough time to reason it's the electricity that forces life back into him. His lips don't feel so cold now, and confusion flits across his features. There's memory there. Memory of a kiss, and he desperately hopes it wasn't a dream. At last, he gets back on his feet, his breath coming out in gasps as he gets used to the weird feeling called "living". His heart's thrumming in his ears, pounding against his sternum now. He smiles at that. _Isn't that easy to kill me_, he thinks. The numb haze of moments ago has lifted, and with it, the darkness is slowly fading to a world of blurry shapes far too bright for his eyes.

One, a bluish green blob hovers way too close, and its big bluish green limbs are constricting his ribs in a bruising grip. A smaller grey blob scampers onto the bed, shouting something at the first pressure on Peter's ribs lessens considerably, and he's grateful. As his vision improves, he can just make out a lithe green form approaching his side. Gamora. She kneels down beside him, laying her elbows on the edge of the bed and resting her chin on her arms. It's only after he's blinked a few times (and seeing the world much more clearly) that he catches the sight of tears in her eyes. His brows pull together in a frown.

"Gams...Gams, wha'happened?" he asks, his speech somewhat slurred. Another diamond rolls down her face, and she tries (she really tries) to smile for him. She reaches up and lays her hand on his.

"You ask me what has happened? Quill, do you not remember?" she asks in a voice so quiet it could hardly be called a whisper. Her voice wavers ever so slightly, and of all the thoughts he's entertaining at the current moment-not one of them is the possibility that she, Gamora the assassin, could ever worry for him, the very destructible Terran. Therefore, he's still in a state of confusion when he finally forms words.

"All I r'member is big flash, too much purple and then, nothing," he says in response. His gaze drops to his hands when he continues, "It was cold and really dark. Like the deep space sort of dark, without any stars." _Or without any you,_ he adds in his mind. He chooses to leave out the bit about her heartbeat. His face grows warm all of a sudden, and by the inquisitive arch of Gamora's eyebrows, he knows he's royally screwed. As he has rightly guessed, Gamora catches the rosiness in his cheeks and reasons from it that the man has something (innocent, but bashful no doubt) to hide. "Then really, really bright light and Drax crushing my bones."

"I had no intention of further injuring you, friend," Drax comments somewhat apologetically. Peter waves it away with a nonchalant flick of his wrist...and pretends that the movement didn't just send pain zipping through the neurons of his left arm.

An indignant raccoon clears his throat somewhere off to the right.

"You gonna chew me out for saving the galaxy, Ranger Rick?" Peter quips. Rocket's mouth falls open in pure upset indignation and maybe a little surprise. But he closes it.

"We're even, Star-Dork. Only reason you're still here's 'cause my mad skills," the raccoon snorts with a swish of his tail. Gamora stifles a laugh at that, distracting Peter's attention. He arches a brow, cocking his head as he regards her with a wolfish grin.

"I've never actually heard you laugh. First time I do, you try to hide it?" he grins. Gamora throws him a mock glare and rolls her eyes.

"Rocket has made a humorous statement. I did not feel as if it were-" she pauses, dropping her gaze as she considers her next words. "I did not feel as if it were proper to laugh out loud. I feel quite embarrassed now that I have." Nonetheless, a laughing smile spreads over her lips when she meets his gaze. He mirrors her smile and starts to move as if to push himself up, but excruciating pain lances across the lower half of his torso and he abandons the effort. This elicits a flicker of worry from Gamora, who tenses and leans forward ever so slightly, her dark eyes wide. He waves her away and instead lifts the hem of his shirt up far enough to examine the source of his discomfort. It's then that he sees the stretchy (and irritatingly itchy) white bandages wrapped snugly around the lower half of his abdomen and his pelvic region. The bandages are thickest above his pelvis and is that blood? He frowns, making an effort to remember how the hell and when the hell he'd received this injury. Try as he might, no memory presented itself. (This frustrates him.)

"What the hell is this?" He scoffs, flicking a finger in the direction of the injury. The assassin, the raccoon and the walking thesaurus all share a glance before Gamora speaks up.

"After the death of Ronan, Drax found you under a pile of rubble. We discovered you had sustained a rather large piece of shrapnel just above your leg," she remarks as calmly as if giving him the time of day. "You lost quite a large amount of blood when they removed it." _And you dared to frighten me more than was necessary,_ she thinks in hindsight.

Peter's face contorts in disappointment, and to Gamora, his face vividly reminds her of a child who has been told he cannot play outside for a day no matter how much the child desires it. She isn't laughing at his misery. (God knows, she wept because of it.) But she allows herself a small smile because of him. "Aww, man. Seriously? Not cool. I'l be here forever," he whines, letting his head drop back into the pillows.

"I sure as hell won't," the raccoon comments. "So happy Peter Pan's alive and kicking. But I've got ship parts to tinker with." With that, he dashed out of the room to Peter's cry of "Not my ship's!"

Gamora watches the exchange with a muted smile as the raccoon flees the scene. Peter mumbles something about a coonskin cap and some man named Daniel Boone. "Peter, perhaps you can explain this to me as I am confused," she begins, a small laugh escaping her lips.

"Shoot!" He grins from ear to ear, and for the first time in a long time, she thanks her stars to see his impossible boyish glee she'd come to love.

"Why would I shoot you? I have no weapon nor the desire to shoot you, Peter," she remarks in puzzlement. "Nevermind. Explain this to me, if you can. I believe in my experience that only female Terrans experience rosiness in their facial region. This often happens during courtship, I have noticed. Am I correct?"

She receives her answer when he flushes bright red. He reaches up to rub the back of his neck and studiously avoids her gaze, floundering as he searches for words. She tries not to laugh because b_y Graphthar's hammer, he is too cute when embarrassed. _He decides on, "I, uh, well. Gam, it's a metaphor."

"The redness of your face is a metaphor?"

"No! When I said 'shoot', it means 'go ahead and ask'. It's...agh, never mind," he grunts, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.

"You are evading my question," Gamora observes, tilting her head slightly as she watches him. Flustered, the poor man snaps his head up to meet her gaze head-on and just sighs.

"Alright, I blushed," he finally relents. "Because," his brows arch, his mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water (which makes the assassin a _giggling_ assassin) and he gestures with his hands turned palm-upwards, "I was embarrassed. There. Happy?" She rolls her shoulders in a shrug, which earns a nonplussed huff from Peter who crosses his arms over his chest.

"I was only curious," she smirks, blinking fluttering lashes. "You have given me a satisfactory answer. If there is nothing else, I will rejoin Rocket and Groot." She slowly rises to her feet, shrugging her dark tresses over one shoulder. As she strides toward the door, Peter watches her leave. Moments before her foot crosses the threshhold, he acts on an impulse.

"Stay. Please?"

She waits for the span of several heartbeats, just for her own consideration of whether this would actually be a good idea. Then, she turns on a heel, glancing at him over her shoulder. She takes a seat on the edge of the bed, smoothing her hands along the wrinkles made by the depression. "What I said earlier, about it being dark and all." She keeps her gaze on him, a small glint of interest in her eyes as she does so. Yet she remains quiet and lets him continue. "I was dying, wasn't I?"

The bed creaks a little as she nods. "Yes, as you lay in that starless darkness, Drax searched for you and we found you on the brink of death. You were dying," she replies and hates the way her own voice betrays her, cracking over the last word.

"You really want to know why I was blushing?" he asks, swiftly (and somewhat oddly, she thinks) changing the subject. It's odd enough that she stops playing with the leather gloves encasing her hands to look up at him with furrowed brows.

"It is trivial, Quill. I only meant to tease you," she remarks, shaking her head. But then she catches the way his face falls, and his gaze drops. It's minute, and she's fairly sure he never meant her to see it; but she still sees it. Which is why she asks. "Why?"

"I wasn't missing just the stars," he says somberly. "I could have had them, and I'd still have been alone." That's when it hits her. She realizes in that moment what he's trying to tell her, and it shakes her to her core.

* * *

**A/N: Since this chapter's done, I'll go ahead and say it. Peter survived as long as he did because of his Spartoi D.N.A, and in my opinion, that has rendered him considerably more resilient. (Forgive me if I'm mis-written mention of that, because I haven't read the comics. I desperately want to, but anything I do know about the Guardians is from online research). The Stone would have been interesting to use, but being as its power nearly killed him, I couldn't write it as possibly saving him. His heart only gave out because of, well, his human part being dragged through the ringer. The 'electricity' in the beginning is mostly Rocket's fiddling with the leads.**

**Thoughts? Whatever's on your mind, tell me in a review?**

**More reviews = more chapters and faster updates!**


	5. Out of the Dark

**A/N: I'm so grateful for all the responses! Honestly, I only expected, like, less than 10. You guys are the best, okay? This chapter is so unashamedly Starmora because you've all been asking for it (and hell yes, we needed for Starmora in the movie, James Gunn!) **

**1.) Feels, feels, feels. If you sobbed/ugly cried/flailed over the previous chapters, then you will be a puddle of feels. **

**2.) Did anyone catch my Galaxy Quest reference? :p**

**_Previously_**

_ "Stay. Please?"_

_ She waits for the span of several heartbeats, just for her own consideration of whether this would actually be a good idea. Then, she turns on a heel, glancing at him over her shoulder. She takes a seat on the edge of the bed, smoothing her hands along the wrinkles made by the depression. "What I said earlier, about it being dark and all." She keeps her gaze on him, a small glint of interest in her eyes as she does so. Yet she remains quiet and lets him continue. "I was dying, wasn't I?"_

_ The bed creaks a little as she nods. "Yes, as you lay in that starless darkness, Drax searched for you and we found you on the brink of death. You were dying," she replies and hates the way her own voice betrays her, cracking over the last word._

_ "You really want to know why I was blushing?" he asks, swiftly (and somewhat oddly, she thinks) changing the subject. It's odd enough that she stops playing with the leather gloves encasing her hands to look up at him with furrowed brows._

_ "It is trivial, Quill. I only meant to tease you," she remarks, shaking her head. But then she catches the way his face falls, and his gaze drops. It's minute, and she's fairly sure he never meant her to see it; but she still sees it. Which is why she asks. "Why?"_

_ "I wasn't missing just the stars," he says somberly. "I could have had them, and I'd still have been alone." That's when it hits her. She realizes in that moment what he's trying to tell her, and it shakes her to her core._

* * *

It's difficult to grasp at first-she realizes that. Everyone faces death alone; they cannot take another with them, and it is them alone that faces it. This is why she's left a little confused. As his hand slowly seeks hers and their fingers brush, she gets it. She sees a world of difference between succumbing to dreamless sleep without so much as a hand to hold or a kiss in parting and gently falling into that sleep in the arms of your beloved, safe and warm until the cold finally takes you.

"In the way you mean, we are always alone," The words fall from her lips so softly she doubts he can hear them. He does.

He sighs. "Well, I didn't-_don't_ want to be. I don't like alone." She rests her other hand atop his and offers him a small smile, the kind that leaves a twinkle in her eyes.

"If it offers you any comfort, Peter, I shall never leave your side. I swear this on my life," she assures him with a nod. "I do not like 'alone' either." It's then they discover three things: how infectious smiles are, Peter learns the sound of Zen Whoberi laughter, and Gamora understands what makes her blush.

* * *

He recovers within the next few weeks, and as soon as he's released, the five of them slip easily back into their rhythm. Rocket surreptitiously pilfers various nondescript parts from the _Milano_ and sets to work on his weapons of mass destruction. Groot grows at a steady pace, grooving to his wooden heart's desire. Drax remains forever lost to the idea and meaning of metaphors. One night, however, when the aforementioned three have gone to sleep, Peter finds himself bereft of it. Not for the first time, he finds it hard to get a restful sleep after the chaotic events involving the damned Infinity Stone.

He knows it's impossible if one's been laying in bed for more than a few hours without a wink. The raccoon's snoring doesn't at all aid the matter, and a tired Peter Quill pulls himself up out of bed. He lifts his hand over his mouth to cover the long, exhausted yawn. He lets out a sigh, and when he can actually _see _the puff of his breath, his brows furrow. _So help me, God, if Rocket screwed with the heating...again,_ he thinks to himself as he shrugs on his duster. He passes by the sleeping raccoon, curled up in a ball around Groot and his pot. He's walking through his ship (because maybe he just might fall asleep if he can watch the stars for some time) and rubbing his arms because _holy hell, it's freezing in here_. He's only just stepped into the cockpit when his foot dashes against a box of tools Rocket has no doubt left there.

He bites back a cry as the echoing clang resounds in the silent ship. A little ahead of him, he catches a glimpse of bright magenta followed by a pair of dark eyes beneath long lashes watching him with some interest.

"You cannot sleep? Neither can I," she remarks as if it isn't awkward at all that the both of them are up in what may be the middle of the night. He does something between a hop and a skip to get up over the slightly raised platform upon which the chairs sit. With a well-hidden grunt of discomfort, he all but falls into the chair beside her and gingerly lifts his legs to rest his feet on the dash. He folds his arms behind his head and leans back into the chair to close his eyes.

"Nope, not without a screaming indigo villain constantly exploding in my mind. I'd have listened to my music, but usually I pipe it throughout the ship," Peter says, gesturing above his head to the vents overhead. "Rocket'd probably kill me. Not that that's a particular worry of mine." The ship is moving in a slow orbit around some barren moon off of Knowhere, and currently, it's enshrouded in the shadow of said moon. In that shadow, Gamora arches her eyebrows at his mention of music. She remembers the legend he'd promised to tell her and debates for a moment on the wisdom of broaching the subject. _He claims to be a man of his word. Perhaps he will remain one,_ she reasons.

"Peter, you told me long ago about a legend on your planet. And of the hero Kevin Bacon. What is this legend?" She glances at him just as the ship breaks through a patch of light, and their eyes meet. She's caught him off guard and can't help but smile at his reaction. He straightens almost immediately and smooths down the wrinkles of his clothing. Then he looks away and stammers for a moment, not sure of where to begin. _It's endearing,_ she thinks, reminded now of the way he'd looked at her after they'd first met. A smile tugs at her lips.

"Did I-I don't remember really mentioning that mov-legend, I mean," he stammers, running a hand through his curly hair. "Did I? I did." He rises from his seat and holds his hand out to Gamora. "I might as well, then. I keep my promises especially when they're to deadly green assassins." This elicits a laugh from this particularly green assassin. She stares at his hand, somewhat puzzled, but takes it nonetheless and lets him pull her to her feet.

"Must you hold my hand to tell me this great legend?" she asks him as they walk away from the cockpit. They stop near the place she'd found him listening to his Walkman after the battle. He'd held her hand as he led her to where they now stood, but his hold changes slightly as he laces his fingers with hers until their palms are aligned. When he hears her words, his hand falters slightly and his face flickers with an emotion conspicuously close to hurt. Gamora convinces herself she's seeing things and instead wraps her hand around his. "Tell me."

"I will, promise," he whispers, leaning in close to her ear. His head is nearly resting against hers, and it's after she realizes his hand is on her hip that she discovers (to her amusement) he is swaying slightly. "If you promise me one thing?" She tenses somewhat, her body stiff as she tries to understand what 'pelvic sorcery' the man beside her is working. If she strains, she can hear him humming (Humming? What on earth is he doing humming? She finds even more surprising the notion that she recognizes the tune. It sounds remarkably close to the song she had been introduced to on Knowhere).

"If it is within my ability, I will," she answers, humming along with him despite herself. (She blames the music). "What is it I must promise?" His movements are slow and hesitant; her heart twinges just a little. He's wondering if she'll put a knife to his throat. Though the likelihood of this happening has decreased, she can't blame him.

"Dance with me." Moments pass in the silence that falls, and two hearts beat just a little too fast. Hers flutters, and his hammers. She's fairly sure she can see it in the flickering movement just beneath the hollow of his neck. The hand he's held at her waist has lifted, but remains at her side. She turns a bit too quickly, her free hand lowering to her side. His brain-which she guesses-is running a million miles an hour misinterprets the movement and she catches the way he flinches in the next second. _  
_

"Peter, I am not going to kill you. If that is what you're afraid of?"

He gulps, confirming her assumption. "Yes, I will. Such a simple request. I had thought you would ask me to spend a night on Morag for all the suspense of your question," she continues with a small chuckle. He laughs, too, shaking his head.

"No, no, even I wouldn't do that," he remarks, flashing her a disarming smile. "So, about that dance. It goes like this." He looks down at their joined hands and wraps his arm around her waist, drawing her to him. She gasp a little at their sudden closeness but does not pull away. Then, he squeezes her hand. "See, we've got to have our hands like this. And here, you can rest your hand on my shoulder like that," He takes her free hand in his and lifts it, lays it on his shoulder as he speaks. "You just move to the rhythm of the song. I've got it memorized-courtesy of 26 years listening to the same ten songs on repeat. 10 best songs in the Galaxy, if you ask me..." She sways as he does, giving half a mind to his embarrassed babbling about the various people called artists. As he's speaking, she eventually zones out and subconsciously leans against him, lowering her head to his shoulder as they move slowly to the music only they can hear.

_**Fin**_

**A/N: And at last, we come to the end. I actually didn't plan on ending it this exact way, but it just fit so perfectly. So...what did you guys think? Didja love it? (Please please say you did?) I think it ties in nicely with the movie. I really like where it ended up, so if anything, I'll post an epilogue probably. **

** Also, I'm starting another GotG fic. It's called "In My Veins" and it's AU in which Gamora is a Zen Whoberi princess, and Peter is a merc (or Ravager, might just keep him like that) who's been hired by her father to hunt her down and return her in relatively one piece after she flees the planet and hides in a distant star system with a certain raccoon and talking tree. But she doesn't exactly plan on going quietly. Does this sound interesting? **

**That being said, More reviews = faster updates! Thoughts? Whatever's on your mind, tell me in a review. **


End file.
